


make this feel like home

by honeyed_dagger (sarartist)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarartist/pseuds/honeyed_dagger
Summary: When they kissed, Lance felt as if he had dived into in a cosmic ocean shimmering with a million dappled aurelion suns. He was drowning, drowning, drowning— but it was as if he had never breathed better before.orSendak has been defeated by the joined forces of Voltron and the Galaxy Garrison, and the Earth is safe for the time being.Lance asks Keith if he would like to stay with his family for a while, as his own shack is in ruins.This is a really, really bad idea, Keith thinks. But he says yes anyway.





	make this feel like home

**Author's Note:**

> post S7!! I am no good at writing summaries, so I hope the fic makes up for that.  
> This is my very first fic, and I really just poured all my love for these two into it. I hope you enjoy.

(i)

 

Lance was fifteen when his chemistry teacher had brightly announced that everyone present in the classroom was to pair up with another, before starting off their research for a project. 

 

His ears drowned in vivacious chatter as his classmates tugged at each other’s sleeves, exchanging smiles and linking arms. 

 

His best friends— the big guy who smelled of freshly-baked butter cookies and engine oil, and the petite, quick-witted girl with silver-rimmed glasses perched upon her nose, stood next to each other, whispering excitedly, their brilliant minds brimming with incandescent ideas. The taller one’s eyes met Lance’s for a fleeting moment, before he flashed him an apologetic smile. Lance smiled back, waving his hand in the air enthusiastically, wrist adorned with many-hued threads.  _ It is okay.  _

  
  


It really wasn’t okay, he realised, when no pair of eyes in the room failed to follow him when, instead of walking up to his teacher, after being told that he could work with her, he flung open the door, and  _ fled.  _

 

That night, when veil after veil of sable gauze fell over the sky, Lance lay in his bed, thinking.  _ The moon would love me, though, wouldn’t she? She would want to be with me.  _

 

And this thought made him smile into the moist salt-drenched cotton of his pillow. 

  
  


(ii)

 

 

Well, you see, the thing that bothered Lance all the time was this: he had absolutely  _ no  _ reason to feel lonely. 

 

His family was—enormous, for the lack of a better word. 

 

The walls of his house, always freshly painted—courtesy of his brother’s children’s bright crayons and brighter minds, reverberated with laughter, always. 

 

His mother, her eyes gentle and hair a soft, wispy brown that mirrored Lance’s own, presented before him a plate of freshly-made garlic knots—his favourite, whenever she noticed his eyes downcast. 

 

His nephew and niece clung to his legs, tiny feet coated with motes of sand, begging him to teach them the science of crafting the perfect, matchless sandcastle. 

 

His sisters ruffled his hair, his brothers rambled to him about vicious co-workers and failed courting attempts, and his father held him firmly in his arms, until he felt safe, safe, safe. 

 

But, you see, this was  _ exactly  _ what bothered Lance the most. This was  _ family,  _ which meant, they were  _ obliged  _ to love him. 

 

He had opened his eyes into this world, shrouded in affection and warmth. 

 

But that was because they were his  _ blood.  _ You always love your family no matter what, even if they are unsightly, or banal, or too much, or not enough. 

 

But the others, the people who did  _ not  _ share the crimson rivulets that ran in his veins, simply didn’t seem to enjoy his company just as much. Nobody truly liked him, or wanted to be with him, for  _ him.  _

 

So, when Lance looked at the handful of people before him, ensnared with one another in this vast hollow of star-smeared space, he felt an ache in his chest.

 

Allura, the princess of astounding courage and ethereal beauty, was engaged in a serious conversation with Shiro, the man he had always idolised, the one with a scar that traced his nose, and wisps of snow hair that were remnants of a terrifying past. 

 

The eccentric and warm-hearted Coran twirled his ginger moustache, as he explained the mechanism of an appliance tainted silver and viridescent to Hunk and Pidge, the chemistry lab partners, the bright minds. 

 

And Lance, was, well,  _ Lance.  _ He was the boy, who was always loquacious, chattering away, cerulean eyes glinting with laughter.

 

He was also the boy who was sitting all by himself now, in a corner of the room, a solitary star. But that was okay, he thought, for nobody seemed to notice. 

  
  


(iii)

 

 

Keith was different, Lance realised.  _ A good different. _

 

When he held his bruised hand gently, dark eyes and hair glazed with a soft purple glow, asking him if he was okay; when he smiled at Lance before asking him if he would like to train with him later; when he turned to  _ Lance,  _ of all people, for advice, amidst many a foreboding battle—it was different, Lance felt different. 

 

It felt like a good different.

 

 

(iv) 

 

 

But that summer, many a fateful night earlier, when Lance had opened his window, eyes fixed on the cosmic empyrean, he had seen nothing, nothing.

 

_ Even the moon doesn’t want me.  _

 

The moon was a liar. 

 

He espied remnants of sea-soft, silvery mist, and a sea of stars, linked close together, 

leaving no space among themselves for his skin and bones. 

  
  
  


(v)

 

 

Keith, like the moon, was a liar. 

 

Just like the soothing soft glow, he left, when Lance had been least expecting him to.  _ I have to be on this mission,  _ he had muttered.  _ All that we had meant nothing to me; your friendship, your words—they meant nothing to me,  _ Lance has heard, words ringing like the tumultuous storm of blood roaring in his ears. 

 

_ No,  _ thought Lance. It was  _ him  _ who was the liar. 

 

He lied to  _ himself  _ before anyone else did, when he told himself that things could change, that he could ever be enough, or not too much. 

 

Lance, like the moon, was alone, with no light of his own. 

  
  


(vi)

 

_ Well, I guess you are our leader now,  _ Lance had said, arms wrapped around himself, and brows knit together. 

 

_ Right,  _ Keith had thought. That was all he would ever be to Lance, to the team, and to everyone else: a leader (an unworthy one, albeit), a lone wolf, a boy who was ensnared in a cage of ice, breaking through whose iron surface which was an unfeasible task. 

 

Perhaps Keith could never be what everyone else expected him to be; that he could never be enough was irrefutable. 

 

But Lance, but  _ Lance,  _ was more than enough, and Keith couldn’t fathom why he would ever think otherwise. 

 

So, Keith left. He left, so that he wouldn’t have to dash the hopes of the people he loved, so that the reflection staring back at him every morning wasn’t that of an unbefitting leader. 

 

And he also left so that the thought of forsaking the team wouldn’t cross Lance’s mind  _ ever  _ again, because Keith wouldn’t be there anymore to fetter him, standing on a pedestal he had never even deserved. 

 

And, perhaps, Keith also thought that he could stop being a fool, an imbecile, for simmering blood rushed to his face whenever Lance’s fingertips brushed his own while sparring, for he lay in bed at night, dreaming of the constellations that mapped the Cuban boy’s nose and cheeks, for he felt this way, in spite of knowing that Lance would never, ever feel the same. Perhaps, Keith could appease his heart, and pull out every honeyed dagger that had struck his chest every time he had heard the mellifluous song of the blue-eyed boy’s laughter. 

 

But, when Keith returned, after having spent two years with his unshrinking mother and a wolf whose fur was dyed the hue of iridescent stars, he realised that he had been  _ so, so  _ wrong. 

  
  


(vii) 

 

Stepping onto the russet veneer of the planet—where he had drawn breath for the first seventeen years of his life—proved to be a lot more underwhelming than Keith had expected. 

 

He felt none of the wave of warmth and affection that washed over Lance and Pidge as they ran and jumped into the welcoming arms of their families, and his eyes weren’t glazed over with mist and despair like Hunk’s were, when his loved ones were nowhere to be seen. 

 

But something,  _ something  _ struck Keith’s breastbone like a glass-sharp bullet, when he stood before a dilapidated shack in a barren sea of desert. 

 

Everything that had been his father’s and his: all the midnight skies dotted with flecks of ivory, the tales of infernos and hungry flames licking the tips of buildings that kissed the clouds, the wood and the smoke of the tiny space that they called their own, was gone, gone, gone.  _ Just like his father.  _

 

_ But,  _ Keith realised,  _ not all was gone— _ when Lance walked up to him, eyes demure and a little hesitant. 

 

“These gloves—the ones you left in the castle—your  _ stupid  _ fingerless gloves, Keith—I kept them. I mean, it was all about to be destroyed, gone forever and ever, and I figured you’d want them, I think? No, I mean, this is probably weird. They—uh, never mind, if you don’t want them, I guess—”

 

“Thank you, Lance,” Keith interrupted, taking the raven-hued gloves from him, and slipping them onto the hands that had missed their familiar weight. And then, he added softly, “They were...my dad’s.”

 

Lance looked up at him, scrutinising his face for a moment, specks of surprise lacing his countenance.

 

But, Keith was the one who was rendered surprised, staggered, absolutely  _ stupefied,  _ when Lance opened his mouth, to say, to  _ say,  _ “Uh, Keith, buddy, would you like to, if you want, of course—stay with me—I mean, uh, my family? For a while, you know, now that the Earth is safe, and we won't have to go for battle for a while, hopefully. I mean, your place has been ruined, right? So, unless you  _ still  _ want to stay at the garrison, oh wait, you probably do—”

 

“Lance, Keith would  _ love  _ to stay with your family. He had asked me to help him look for a place of residence, anyway. Isn’t that right, Keith?” Shiro put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.  _ Close call.  _ If Keith had attempted to speak, anything he sputtered would have been a distant cry from a coherent sentence.

 

Still, he glared at his brother, who merely gave him a shrug.  _ Both of us know you want to—  _ his eyes seemed to divulge what his lips dared not speak. 

 

Keith collected himself in a haste. “Yeah, uh, that would be good, thanks, though you don’t really have to—”

 

“That’s great, buddy! We would love to have you. I am Marco, by the way.” A tall and sturdy man slung a sinewy arm round Keith’s shoulder.  _ Lance’s brother,  _ Keith thought, reminiscing the image of a mammoth group of people resembling the then-Blue Paladin, which hovered in the air—a stark contrast against the memory of his own barren home. 

 

“Yeah! And we can also show your mom around Cuba!” a girl with chestnut curls and honeyed bronze skin like Lance’s said, eyes trained in the direction of Krolia.

“Keith, your mom is so cool!” Lance’s niece exclaimed, and it struck Keith that he hadn’t known his mother when he was this little girl’s height. 

 

But things were better now. 

 

Keith smiled wanly, praying fervently that this wouldn’t be too hard. 

  
  
  


(viii) 

  
  


Keith knew that he was being naive, that he was being  _ terribly  _ credulous. He knew that the closer he inched towards Lance, the more susceptible his heart would be to being ripped apart into smithereens of bruised crimson. 

 

But, it couldn’t hurt too much, right? It was just the matter of a few days. He had flown in the face of hauntingly formidable enemies, survived battered bones and blows to his heart, lost people he thought would never walk away. 

 

_ This  _ was nothing in comparison. He could handle this, right? 

 

_ Wrong,  _ Keith realised, as he fell into step next to Lance, on the asphalt sidewalk that bore semblance to the one on whose grainy surface he used to crouch as a child, alone—always alone, with a red piece of chalk in a tiny hand, and scribble: smiling lions, little cubs, hippos, and stars—so many stars. 

 

Lance’s eyes gleamed pearlescent blue under the blazing sun, and Keith could feel his blood simmer and warm his being as the loquacious boy filled him in about all the details that were  _ super, duper important, Keith.  _

 

“Oh, and the beach! Man, I miss it.” 

 

“I have never been to one,” Keith mumbled, so soft that even the wind tousling his onyx hair could not hear him. 

 

But Lance, it seemed, heard him anyway. 

 

“You haven’t? Dude, you  _ have  _ to see the Varadero beach! The water’s so blue, and so sparkly, I swear, you will never forget it once you see it!” 

 

“I’m sure I won’t.” Keith heaved a deep sigh.  _ Blue things—sparkling, beautiful, vivacious, blue things—he had always tried to forget them, but in vain.  _

 

“Lance, stop pestering Keith already! He must be tired after all this journeying.”

 

“I wasn’t  _ pestering  _ him, Rachel. I was just telling him some important stuff, instead of being an absolute bore like _ you _ .”

 

Lance’s sister slapped his arm, and he, as if on cue, pulled ruthlessly at a fistful of her curls, earning a shriek and a second slap from her. Their actions appeared practised, but also strangely effortless. Even a stranger like Keith, who had never seen the two siblings next to each other before, could tell that they had done it thousands of times before. 

 

And then Rachel said something—but Keith didn’t quite catch it, because he was drinking in the resplendent laughter that spilled from Lance’s lips, dripping honey and sunshine. It was a laughter that was akin to the downpour of incandescent warmth from the heavens, and Keith thought—no, Keith  _ knew,  _ that Lance’s gleam outshone every star in the cosmos, that Lance was made of pure, pristine light. 

 

_ No.  _ Keith’s insides lit up when Lance turned in his direction, the corners of his mouth twitching into a crooked grin. 

 

Lance, Keith decided,  _ was  _ light. 

  
  


(ix) 

  
  


The sunset bloomed crimson over the velvet sand, melting into the ocean, dyeing every crevice of the cosmic water a languid red. 

 

Lance had been right. The steady thrum in Keith’s chest, as his skin soaked in the scent of iridescent sea-salt, let him know that his mind wouldn’t fail to harbour this sight in its interiors for a long, long time. 

 

_ This sight, this moment, this ephemeral gust of wind that feels like a drunken reverie. Lance standing next to him, shoulder brushing against his own, bare feet sinking into the gilded sand as he wistfully observes the sky cloaked in rose-gold.  _

 

_ The taste of the lilac clouds on his tongue, his hand achingly forlorn, yearning for the same touch that is has been longing for, for what seems like aeons.  _

 

_ Keith thinks that if he dares move a bone, if he lets a single syllable slip out of his mouth, this moment, too, will break, fall apart, and scatter into the wind, lost forever.  _

 

_ And yet, something reverberates in his ribcage like a birdsong, urging him to say something, anything, so that he learns to stop leaning against dreams like this one, so that he accepts the reality, so that he can move on, so that— _

 

“Lance.” 

 

Lance hummed, casting a questioning stare his way. Keith allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that Lance, too, was lost in a maze of thought akin to his own—a thought that, maybe, just maybe, included Keith in it. 

 

“Why did you choose me? In the game-show, I mean?”

 

It was something that had been irking Keith for many a sleepless night, a resilient thought that swarmed his mind without warning. 

 

Lance liked Allura. Keith knew that.  _ Everybody  _ did. And it was understandable, really. She was everything that Keith wasn’t: gentle, beautiful, level-headed, and so, so courageous. Keith really did admire the princess, who was worthy of utmost reverence, and worthy of Lance. Keith understood that. 

 

But, what he did  _ not  _ understand, was the reason why Lance had penned down  _ his  _ name when they had each been asked to choose one person from the team to escape the strange place where they had all been trapped. He didn’t understand why Lance had said, with  _ that  _ look on his face, that he thought that Keith was  _ the future.  _ He had spoken of the Galra blood in his veins, which Keith felt alienated him from the rest of the team, like it wasn’t something to detest, to shrink away from. 

_ He’s our leader, plus he is half-galra. So, I think he’s, like, the future. _

 

_ It did not make sense. It didn’t, it didn’t— _

 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lance looked a little flustered, as if the question had struck him in the face like an unforeseen gust of powerful wind. “You don’t want me to repeat it all over again, do you? It’s because you are...our leader, and—”

 

Keith held his breath.  _ Leader.  _ It hadn’t been easy for him to learn to be comfortable with that role of his, to be any  _ good  _ at it. But Keith had come a long way. And he felt that he was getting better at it, a little more confident. 

 

But it haunted him, too, because underneath the armour, the enviable title, he was a boy whom nobody liked for who he  _ really— _

 

“—and, because, Keith, you are brave, and smart. I have always liked that about you—it makes me want to be better, too. I know that you wouldn’t hesitate to fly right into an exploding star, if that meant saving the lives of those you care about. You have always been really cool, you know? Doing cool and crazy things like flying into asteroids and stuff—okay, yeah. That’s...it. Yeah.”

 

Lance exhaled, almost as if these words that had just come tumbling out of his mouth had been held hostage inside him for a long, long while. 

 

“That...wasn’t what you said back then. In the game-show—you said something else.” Keith’s bewildered heart hammered against his chest, painful and sweet, all at once. 

 

“Are you kidding me? This is some embarrassing stuff, dude! It wasn’t exactly super easy for me to say just now, so imagine how it would have been back then, in front of the team, an audience—heck, the entire galaxy, for all we know!” 

 

“I thought,” Keith started, struggling to find the right words. “I thought, that you only saw me as a leader, as a teammate. And that’s why you chose me.” 

 

“Dude, are you nuts?” Lance’s eyes were wide as he gripped both of Keith’s shoulders firmly, forcing him to turn until they were facing each other. “I care about—we care about you because you are our friend, Keith. You are one of us, you are—a part of our family. I mean, of course, it’s cool how you are an awesome leader and samurai and stuff, but hey! We care about the  _ real  _ Keith, alright? The Keith who is all grumpy and selfless, who has a stupid mullet and a stupid-er jacket—like, seriously, a  _ cropped  _ jacket, Keith? We—I miss it though, you know. I miss the old Keith. 

 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong; this cooler, bigger, grizzled Keith with a scar and a cool mom and a space wolf is awesome, but...I miss who you—no, who  _ we  _ used to be, Keith. I mean, we bonded, didn’t we? But it’s...different, now.”

 

Keith felt a falling meteor burning a red-hot hole through his chest. His lungs brimmed with everything that wasn’t air, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think—

 

“Lance.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Why did you ask  _ me  _ to come here, with you, with your family?” 

  
  


Lance let go of Keith, leaving in his wake an envelope of a cold and empty void around him. His face, which turned in the direction of the gradually-darkening sea again, had a faint hint of a smile on it. 

 

“Asking a lot of questions today, aren’t you, mullet? How about  _ I  _ ask you something now?” 

 

The silence that ensued was a chasm between the two boys, until Lance said, “Why did you leave us, Keith? You ran away.” 

 

Keith had heard these words from Lance’s mouth before, when they had all been stranded in space, left with no sound to hold onto but each other’s breaths. 

 

_ Keith, you ran away! Maybe you should have just stayed away. _

 

His words had pierced his heart like a an arrow drenched in slow poison. And Keith had said nothing in response, because he knew that Lance had been right. Instead, he had tried to leave,  _ again,  _ to fly away into the void of nothingness, but Hunk had held him back with a firm grip on his ankle. 

 

The lilt of Lance’s voice, though, seemed softer now, strangely careful. But that made it worse, because now Keith couldn’t resist answering, though it seemed harder than facing a fleet of ferocious enemies on his own. 

 

“The two years, that I spent with my mom—she took me to a place then, the quantum abyss, and we saw fragments of her memories—memories of the Earth, my dad and I. 

 

“I had always been angry at her for leaving me, for not being there for me when I needed her the most. But then, after seeing everything, I understood that she had to leave me because the mission she was on was what was the most important thing.” 

 

Lance laughed, a little bitterly, interrupting. “The mission, the mission, the mission. It’s always the mission, right? Of course—”

 

“But, you know what she said when I told her that? She said, that she left so that I would be safe. She left to protect...the person she loved the most. That’s what she said.” The memory of his mother’s words felt sweet on his tongue, tender and serene, a safe haven. 

 

Keith cast a glance at Lance, who looked perplexed. He whispered, “Keith—” 

 

But before he could add anything else to his string of words, Keith started bolting across the sea, leaving footprints on the vermilion sand, to be made a little deeper by Lance’s own as he followed in hot pursuit. 

 

“I could stay here forever!” Keith felt a strange adrenaline pumping through his veins, fortifying him in a way he had never known before. Silvery foam-tipped waves kissed his feet as he stretched his hands towards the firmament melting into liquescent blue from a fading orange. 

 

Lance came to a halt inches away from him, the silken water pooling like molten gold around his knees. “I thought,” he said, between ragged breaths, “you didn’t want to be stuck with me for an eternity?” 

 

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled, but Lance only grinned at him. 

 

And Keith felt himself smiling too, euphoric and carefree, for the first time in a while. 

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but was met with a sudden splash of cool water on his face. 

 

Lance’s hands had beads of water clinging to them as he put them on his hips. “So?” He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his face. 

 

“Oh, it’s on,” Keith announced confidently, bending down to feel the lapping water against his cupped hands, before splashing it at Lance, who pretended to look terribly offended. 

 

Later, when they lay on the shore, bursting every now and then into peals of ecstatic laughter, ocean-drenched clothes plastered to their limbs, drops of water clinging to their hair like glistening crystals—Keith could feel the taste of freedom on his tongue, its scent in his blood. 

 

Lance, Keith decided, for the second time that day—was light, yes. But Lance, Lance—

 

Lance was also  _ freedom.  _

  
  
  


(x) 

  
  


At the dinner table, Keith was flanked by Lance’s brother Luis’ children on either side—Nadia and Sylvio, who were incessantly peppering him with questions, eager to learn more about  _ the huge guy with a braid ( _ Kolivan), the story of how he met Shiro (which Keith recounted with a smile on his face), and the tricks that his wolf Kosmo could perform (no, Keith didn’t think he could shake Nadia’s hand. He could teleport, though. That was kinda cool too, no?). 

 

“Hey.” Keith looked up to see Lance collapsing onto the chair across him. “Looks like you have got some fans, huh?” 

 

They exchanged smiles, sweet and honey-soft, like a clandestine secret which was meant only for the two of them. 

 

“Tío Lance told us that you have a super cool sword to fight all the bad people. Can you show it to us? Pretty please?” Sylvio beseeched, drawling the last word. 

 

“He did? Well, yeah, I guess it’s kinda cool. Um, I don’t know, showing you...would be kinda dangerous though.” 

 

Sylvio pouted. “But I am turning six next month!” 

 

“Yeah! And I am  _ four _ .” Nadia sat up a little straight in her seat.

 

Stifling a smile, Keith drummed his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. “Well, how about your  _ own  _ swords? I could make those. Out of wood.” 

 

“Really?” The children’s eyes twinkled with glee. 

 

Keith nodded, laughing softly. 

 

“Your father used to carve as well.” Krolia’s sudden comment surprised Keith. She had been sitting with Rachel and Marco on either side, answering her own set of questions. 

 

“Yeah. He was the one who taught me.” 

 

“He made me this.” Krolia pulled at the metallic chain that was always laced around her neck, to reveal a wooden pendant, half the size of Keith’s thumb. It had been carved with utmost care, painted meticulously, and encrusted with a single violet crystal that caught the light in the room.  _ A perfect miniature copy of Keith’s blade—the one which had been Krolia’s before she left it with her son.  _ Keith’s eyes shone with awe. 

 

“Woah, that’s so romantic!” Rachel sighed dramatically, and Marco supported her remark with a solemn nod of his head. 

 

Krolia smiled, eyes fixed on the pendant, which she held carefully in her hand. She, perhaps, looked more in love than what Keith remembered from those memories, her eyes shrouded with softness. 

 

“Keith.” Nadia tugged at his sleeve, jostling him out of his thoughts. “Can you make my sword like tío Lance’s? The design’s so pretty!” 

 

“Lance’s...sword?” Keith furrowed his eyebrows.

 

Across the table, Lance looked a little flushed, fumbling for words. 

 

“Uh, yeah. It’s nothing—uh, I was training when my bayard upgraded itself to form an Altean broadsword. It happened when you were—away.”

 

Lance, who usually clamoured for the spotlight to be on him, was then looking down at his hands, uncharacteristally unhappy with all the attention.

 

“Lance, that is—incredible. You are incredible,” Keith whispered the last sentence, meaning every word of it. No paladin of Voltron had ever had the ability to unlock  _ three  _ different forms of their bayard. All the paladins—except Lance.

 

Lance, who was light and freedom and—and incredible. Lance, who was smiling then, eyes downcast, cheeks rose-hued. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

 

Lance’s mom insisted that Keith take a third helping of the delectable pudding her husband had whipped up, and Keith couldn’t refuse. 

 

Keith spotted his mother chuckling at one of Luis’ witty remarks. Under the table, Kosmo was curled up, sniffing at Nadia’s hand as she tried to teach him a trick with her brother’s help. 

 

The fragrance of freshly-made lemonade meandering in the air mingled with the laughter of almost a dozen people, their faces aglow with the satisfaction of a hearty meal. 

 

_ This is nice,  _ Keith thought to himself; it almost scared him a little, how nice and soft and comfortable and  _ at home  _ he felt at the moment. 

 

“Speaking of Alteans, what happened to the princess, Lance? She likes you back, doesn’t she?” Veronica’s question pulled Keith out of his thoughts.  _ Oh. Of course.  _

 

And Keith could swear that Lance, cheeks flushed and eyes glaring at his sister, hastily glanced at him before saying, “I told you, Vero! It’s nothing like that.” 

 

_ Did Lance bring him here because he pitied him? Because he knew that Keith didn’t have a home to go to? He could have asked Allura to come here instead; apparently she liked him back now. And what Keith saw that day, on his screen—they must have been going in for a kiss, right?  _

 

_ Keith didn’t need this. He would have been fine on his own. This, this, why— _

 

Keith pushed his chair back, standing up. “Uh, I’ll be back in a bit.” The moment he stepped out of the room, he started running, not mindful of the direction in which his feet were taking him.

 

The sound of rushed footsteps behind him, and then, “Keith, Keith, wait up!”

 

“What is it, Lance?” Keith’s tone was sharp, his back still facing the other boy. 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

“I said I was going to the—”

 

“Keith, do you even know where the bathroom is?”

 

Keith sighed defeatedly. “I—guess I don’t.”

 

“Dude, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Lance looked genuinely concerned, and Keith  _ hated  _ that, because, because—

 

“Did you ask me to come here only because you pitied me? Because my house was ruined?”

“What—no, Keith, that’s—”

 

“No, Lance, don’t lie to me. Allura and you are—together now.” The words tasted strangely bitter on his tongue, sharp on his heart. “So it would only make sense if she was the one you asked to go with you. Yet,  _ I  _ am the one who is here. Why would you do that, Lance? I don’t need you to feel sorry for me like this, I don’t—” And then he was wiping his face with his sleeve, eyes glazed with mist, why now, why—

 

“Keith, Keith, listen.” Lance held his face gently with both of his hands, forcing his gaze to meet the blue-eyed boy’s own.

 

“We. Are. Not. Together. Allura and I, I mean. I don’t even feel that way about her anymore. It took me quite some time to get over her.

 

“And as for Allura—she was a little confused about her feelings. She is still nursing a broken heart, you know? We talked it out, though, and we’re cool now—friends, like we are supposed to be. 

 

“But, dude,  _ this  _ doesn’t even have anything to do with Allura. I asked you to come here with me because, because—not because I pity you, okay? I have no reason to. 

 

“I just—I had really missed you, Keith. When you were gone to the Blade—you left for  _ so long.  _ I thought that we were friends, that I was your right-hand man. But I guess—we weren’t what I thought—I didn’t do enough. But it still hurt, you know? And I didn’t really have anybody to talk to. Pidge and Hunk were always doing their thing with Coran,  Allura was always with Lotor, and Shiro was acting weird—the clone, that is. 

 

“That was when I realised just how much I missed you, Keith. I—I want that friendship again—if possible. I just really missed having you around. And I thought that doing— bring you here with me— would help. Yeah.” 

 

“Oh.” Keith was staring at Lance, still dubious of having heard everything right. He took a deep breath. “Lance, I didn’t leave because our friendship meant nothing to me. Your support—it was all that kept me going, really. 

 

“When you came to my room that day, and told me about how there were five lions, but one paladin too many, and you didn’t want to take Blue back from Allura? I—that was part of why I left. Then there would be five lions, five paladins...and no one would have to worry about who flew what.” He could feel a weight releasing off his shoulders once he finished. 

 

“Keith.” Lance whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. “Quit being so selfless all the time.” Then, he wrapped his arms around Keith, mumbling softly against his shoulder. Keith hesitated for a moment, before relaxing into the hug. Holding Lance, Keith could smell the citrus cent of his shampoo as wisps of soft hair tickled his face. 

 

“We should get going now,” Lance said, letting go of Keith. “We have been here too long.”  _ But he hadn’t held Keith nearly long enough. He hadn’t, he hadn’t— _

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

 

“Oh, and Keith— now that both of us have mega-cool swords— wanna spar together sometime?”

 

Keith smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

 

A comfortable silence hung around them as they walked toward the room reverberating with chatter. 

 

“Oh, you two came at the right time!” Rachel pulled at Keith’s arm. “We were just discussing how was to sleep where tonight.”

 

“Can Kosmo stay with us? Please?” Sylvio begged. 

 

Luis looked at Keith, who nodded. “Just don’t let him, er,  teleport you anywhere, alright?” 

 

“Krolia can take the guest-room,” Lance’s mother said. “But, I am afraid we only have one.” 

 

“Keith can stay in Lance’s room,” Veronica pitched in. “Will that be okay?”

 

Keith turned to Lance, expecting him to refuse, perhaps. 

 

“Sure.” That was all Lance said in response, before turning back to Nadia, who was rambling about the last swimming competition she had participated in. 

 

“Yeah, it’s fine with me,” Keith said.  _ If he had to break his own heart, why not go all the way? _

  
  
  


(xi) 

  
  


“You painted this?” Keith ran his hand over the smooth surface of a guitar, coloured painstakingly with a multitude of shades of inky blue and a rich violet, coalescing to form a galaxy adorned with specks of white stars. 

 

“No, Marco did; he has always been the artist of our house.” Lance smiled fondly at the memory, walking over to where Keith was standing in his room. He lifted the guitar, running a thumb over the prismatic hues. “This was a gift from the family, for my fourteenth birthday. I loved space, and I had been begging for a guitar for months. So, yeah.” 

 

Keith surprised himself when he asked, “Can you play something?” 

 

“Now? I don’t know if I still remember how to...”

 

Lance took a seat on his bed, humming mellow tune to himself, strumming the guitar experimentally. Keith sank into a chair that lay next to his study table, watching the other boy with keen interest. 

 

Then, as if he was beckoning a choir of warblers with the sway of his hand, Lance began to play a tune. It sounded like the gentle murmur of a woodland stream, the lilt of a zephyr, the song of the cosmic ocean. It sounded like, it sounded like, Lance’s voice—

 

_ —we never look back _

_ And whatever I lack, you make up  _

_ We make a really good team, _

_ And not everyone sees— _

 

Keith opened his eyes, to find Lance singing, head bobbing up and down, foot tapping the marble floor to the beat of a rhythm unbeknownst, honey and starlight dripping from his throat. 

 

_ You don’t have to say I love you, to say I love you _

_ Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons  _

_ We’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue  _

_ Sickeningly sweet like honey, _

_ Need no money  _

_ All I need is you  _

 

He hummed some more, mumbling to himself. “I can’t quite remember all the words. It’s a pretty old song—one of my favourites. I haven’t heard it in a while, though, so yeah.” 

 

“It was—I liked it. I didn’t know you could sing.” 

 

“You should have seen me at my school’s talent show. I was an absolute popstar, alright?” Lance laughed at himself, collapsing head-down into a soft downy pillow, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Man, I’m beat.”

 

“Me too. So...I’ll take the floor?”

 

Lance sat up promptly at that. “Nope, nope, nope-ity nope. You are our  _ guest,  _ Keith. I can’t let you sleep on the floor. You take the bed.  _ I  _ will take the lovely, lovely floor.”

 

“ _ Lance.”  _

 

“Nope, I’m not listening!” Lance fished out a couple of blankets and pillows from a cupboard, gathering them in his arms. 

 

“Lance, please. You said we are friends, right? I can’t steal your bed from you on your first night home after such a long time.”

 

Lance huffed, sighing deeply. “Okay, I will let you win this one. Just this one time, okay?”

 

“Sure.” Keith smiled, taking the pile of fluffy blankets and pillows from him, staggering a little beneath their weight. 

 

“Goodnight, mullet.”

 

“Night, Lance.”

 

Lance turned off the light, whose glow faded away gradually, leaving them in the dark shadows. Settling into the cosy softness of his assemblage of warm fabric, Keith spotted a ceiling bespangled with glow-in-the-dark stars, their fluorescent greens and blues bathing the room in a subdued illume. His eyelids grew heavy, and he could hear Lance’s soft breaths even out. 

 

But Keith couldn’t find it in him to fall asleep. His heart was overwrought, a profusion of thoughts swirling in his mind. 

 

_ (Your stupid gloves, Keith.) _

 

_ (Lance’s feathery hair, softly aglow in the light of the setting sun.) _

 

_ (I had really missed you, Keith.)  _

 

_ (Lance’s grin, his star-studded eyes lighting up at the sight of his room.) _

 

_ (You are—a part of our family.)  _

 

_ (Lance’s honeyed voice, the words tumbling out of his throat like a shower of stars.)  _

 

_ (Lance, Lance, Lance—)  _

 

“Can’t sleep?” 

 

Keith’s eyes followed the voice, to meet Lance’s own as he peered at him from his bed. 

 

His throat felt parched. “No.”

 

“Me neither,” Lance said softly. “Hey, Keith, can I ask you something?”

 

“Uh— sure?” 

 

“Am I—did I, perhaps, kinda force you to come here with me? Did you maybe not really want to come? I guess I  _ was  _ a little pushy back at the garrison, wasn’t I? Maybe you wanted to be there, with Shiro and Coran and Allura and the others—”

 

“What? No, Lance.” Keith sat up. “I— I like being here. It is nice. I like your family.” 

 

“No, I mean— am I a little too much sometimes, Keith? I don’t know, too clingy? Too loud?”

 

Keith frowned. “Why would you say that?” 

 

“It’s just that...whenever I am with anyone besides my family, I feel like the other person doesn’t really like being with me; like they are waiting for me to leave so that they can be relieved. Nobody really  _ wants  _ to spend time with me, I guess? My company isn’t very likeable, maybe. It was the same with the team as well— Hunk, Pidge, Allura and everybody else. I don’t know, maybe—”

 

“I like being with you,” Keith said softly, and Lance stopped speaking. “You aren’t annoying or clingy, Lance.” 

 

Lance assessed his expression. “You are just saying that to make me feel better,” he mumbled, looking away. 

 

“Lance, look at me.” Keith scooted closer to Lance, who still lay atop his bed. He placed his hand on Lance’s, peering firmly into his eyes which glinted in the starlight streaming in from the window. 

 

“You make people laugh when they are in a tense situation. You risked your life to save Coran from an explosion, back when he was merely an acquaintance. You supported me when Shiro disappeared for the second time, when everything was falling apart. You kept my impulse in control— you were my stability. I heard that you were the one who was the most understanding with Shiro when he wasn’t feeling like himself. You are always cheering Hunk and Pidge on, for their scientific endeavours. You were the friend who Allura needed when her heart was broken. 

 

“You are the glue that holds our team together, Lance. Without you, there would be no Voltron. I mean, you were the  _ first  _ human ever to pilot a Voltron lion. Without you, none of us would be in this.

 

“But, it’s not just how you are with  _ with  _ people. It’s also  _ who  _ you are, Lance. You are smart, and observant, and courageous. Whenever you do something, you give it your all. 

 

“I have always been a little— in awe of you; in awe of the light you emanate, the way you enliven every dull space. Everybody who knows you is lucky for it, Lance.”

 

Keith flushed a little, awaiting the aftermath of his unscripted panegyric. The words had rolled off his tongue like beads of water, seamlessly and with ease. 

 

The prolonged silence that followed felt like an eternity. 

 

“That was pretty cheesy, mullet.” Lance laughed weakly, seeming a little out of breath. “ _ Light?  _ Seriously?” But his soft eyes and tender smile as he squeezed Keith’s hand betrayed his teasing tone. 

 

“Shut up.” Lance laughed once again, a little more vivacious this time. 

 

“And Lance, about the others, I’m sure they feel the same. Sometimes you just need to do this scary thing called talking to people, you know? Tell them you feel this way. Maybe they feel the same— that  _ they  _ are the ones being annoying, or it’s just you thinking too much. All of us appreciate having you around.” 

 

“Point noted. Thank you, wise sage.” Keith laughed at that, and Lance let go of his hand, eyebrows furrowed in thought. 

  
  
  


“But still, Keith, even if you like being with me and all— you should have stayed at the garrison.” 

 

Keith gave him a baffled stare. 

 

“You said that your mom told you that she left to protect the one she loved the most. It was the same for you, right?” 

 

Keith nodded, not daring to speak a word. 

 

“You left so that Allura wouldn’t have to give up Blue. You like her, right?”

 

“Wha—”

 

“That is why you looked so hurt when Vero said that Allura liked me back. But now you know that it’s nothing like that. Allura’s at the garrison, so you must want to stay by her side. Maybe you can go back—”

 

Keith groaned.  _ That was it. He couldn’t do this anymore. _

 

“Lance, you are  _ so  _ dense. It’s almost unbelievable _.”  _

 

Lance was wide-eyed, and when he said nothing, Keith continued, “I don’t like Allura, I don’t like anybody—anybody else.” 

 

The passing of a moment. A breath drawn in. And then: “Anybody except you.  _ You  _ are the one I like, Lance. It has been you all along— since that day in Arus when you said that— that we make a good team.”

 

Lance looked as if he was in a daze. His eyes bore into Keith, never fluttering shut. “You left because of what I said— so that I wouldn’t have to leave Red, or feel like I wasn’t a part of the team,” he whispered. 

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was softer still. 

 

“Keith, you are our leader. Plus, you are half-Galra.” 

 

Keith was puzzled. Why was Lance repeating all of it again? 

 

“You are brave, and smart. You do cool stuff like flying into exploding stars, and you would give up your life for those you care about.” 

 

_ Why, why, why, why now, why— _

 

“And you have really pretty eyes, and I want to run my fingers through your stupid mullet really bad. Yeah, maybe your mullet isn’t that bad after all. It has kinda grown on me. Hey, by the way, I guess I can now understand why  _ we  _ were the ones who formed the wings of Voltron together.” 

 

“Lance, I—”

 

“Do you think you can kiss me now, Keith? Please?” 

 

“I am glad you asked.” Keith was grinning now, dizzy with ecstasy. “I have been dying to. For quite some time, actually—”

 

And he forgot what he had been saying, because Lance pulled him by the collar of his shirt, catching his lips with his own. 

 

And when they kissed, it was like two stars colliding, the brilliant explosion of a supernova. Keith felt as if he had swallowed a star, melting white-hot against his rib-cage. His bones were ignited from within, the heart thrumming against his chest enveloped in an inferno. 

 

And then, the blazing fire simmered down, liquefying into something softer, sweeter. Keith felt like he was floating atop wisps of gossamer clouds, mellifluous birdsong resonating through his bones. 

 

It felt like, it felt like—

 

It felt like coming  _ home.  _

  
  
  


(xii)

  
  


When they kissed, Lance felt as if he had dived into in a cosmic ocean shimmering with a million dappled aurelion suns. He was drowning, drowning, drowning— but it was as if he had never breathed better before. 

 

It felt like watching pearlescent sand slip through his fingers, like wishing upon a star that bolted across a sable sky, leaving a vapour-soft streak of silver in its wake. It felt like swimming in a sea of stars, like breaking into a sprightly dance amidst a pool of lilies. 

 

It felt like, it felt like—

 

It felt like coming  _ home.  _

  
  


(xiii) 

  
  


Lance broke off the honeyed kiss in a haste.  _ He had to see, he had to know. _

 

He walked over to his window, swinging a leg over the windowsill, to hop onto the spacious ledge below with practised ease.

 

“Lance, where are you—”

 

“Keith, come and have a look.”

 

An inky star-spangled empyrean peered at the pair— a canvas of kaleidoscope dreams, as Keith joined Lance. 

 

“The moon— it isn’t here tonight,” Lance whispered, sounding a little incredulous. 

 

Keith inspected the scene before him. “I guess not.” 

 

“Keith.” Lance turned to him, gaze fixed firmly on his face. “But you are not the moon.”

 

“Uh, is that— bad?”

 

Lance laughed softly, a hint of sea-soft mist clinging to his eyelashes. “Of course not, you dumb-ass.” He took Keith’s hand in his own, weaving their fingers together, bringing it up to his lips. “It’s perfect.” 

 

“Are you sure I’m not the moon though?” Keith asked, wearing a deadpan expression. “I am there with you during the darkest of times, after all.” Now, he was smirking.

 

“Keith, did you just use a pick-up line— on yourself?”

 

“I did? Cut me some slack; I am still learning.”

 

A minute later, laughing uncontrollably, they collapsed into Lance’s bed, the blankets and pillows retrieved from the floor and thrown onto it.

 

Lance reached over to brush away wisps of dark hair from Keith’s face, before dropping a kiss onto his forehead. “Sunshine,” he whispered.

 

“Shut up,” Keith’s voice was muffled by his own hands covering his face. 

 

“Get used to this, cupcake. One of the perks of being Lance McClains— oh wait, this is bad.” 

 

“What is?”

 

“I introduced you to my family today as my buddy, teammate and the pilot of the black lion. In the morning— I will have to introduce you  _ again  _ as my, as my—”

 

“As your boyfriend?” Keith supplied.

 

“Uh, yeah, I mean, if you want—”

 

“I  _ do  _ want to.” And then they were smiling, smiling, smiling, as if they had never been this warm, this happy in the past. 

 

“Soldier, prepare for attack!” Lance announced, before jumping onto Keith and peppering his face with feather-light kisses. Keith squirmed in his arms, giggling softly, eyelids heavy with sleep and contentment.

 

Later, when they were settled together, nestled against each other other like adjacent pieces of an antique puzzle, Keith mumbled softly into the fabric draped over Lance’s chest, “And you are my light.” 

 

Lance’s eyes fell shut, and he was smiling as he stepped into the realm of dreams. 

 

He dreamt of laughter spilling sweet, of gilded beaches and violet-rimmed eyes. 

 

Maybe Keith was the sun, and Lance was the moon. Maybe it was the other way round. Or, perhaps, they were both. 

 

Regardless, when they kissed, it was like the sun and moon brushing against each other— a lunar eclipse, for an ephemeral instant. But, unlike the celestial bodies, Keith and Lance would kiss not once, but again, and again, and again— soft and slow, or flaming and giddy.

 

They were the two stars espied in the firmament— incandescent, flaming red and blue: brighter as they basked in each other’s light, secure as they gazed at one other, and caught sight of  _ home. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> I will be making some art for this (soon). 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at qulfeeh (art account) or caritatem-aeternam (multi-fandom sideblog). 
> 
> Feel free to drop a message; I love meeting new people!


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